I apologize if the posting has been light lately. You see, I’m not in a comedic mood based on the fact that I fucking hate you. Not you personally–although maybe you personally–but every single human being that’s ever lived. I hate Jonas Salk right now. I hate Florence Nightingale. Harriet Tubman can go fuck herself. Remember Ryan White? He was a little kid that got AIDS from a blood transfusion. He didn’t deserve that, and he doesn’t deserve my enmity. But he’s got it: fuck him, too. If you are–or were at any point–a human being, I hate you.
So, again: I’m sorry, and I hate you, and I’m sorry I hate you.
Corona delenda est.
I don’t believe in metaphysical yadda yadda, but it was REALLY weird to get up and see this post this morning, as I had just woken from a dream where we had run into each other while out walking (dream logic: we knew who we were, “Oh, hey!” “Hi” “What’s goin’ on?”), and I was carrying some Uriah Heep albums with me, so we bantered about that for a bit, and then I went to your apartment, and a whole bunch of the Comment Section regulars were there, and it was cool, but then we all sort of realized “Holy Fuck, social distancing!”, and there was a mad scramble to go outside and space ourselves around a hilly green area, with a swimming pool incongruously in the middle of a field.
And then I woke up and got up and got my coffee and came to the computer and saw this post. So, uhhhhhhhhh . . . . . . . . weird!
And I hope you know the regard we hold you in. Even when we hate everyone and everything too.
What do you have against Corona beer? Other than it being cr@p? Just don’t buy it next time. ‘kay? So you don’t get disappointed? How much of that did you buy, anyway?
lighten up, francis